Life Is Comprised of Many Moments
by screaming-poetically
Summary: Life is comprised of different moments, and Hermione and Fred have experienced many such moments. FWHG


**Title:** Life Is Comprised Of Many Moments  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>Fred/Hermione.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>FRT.  
><strong>Word count:<strong> 981  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Post-DH, so there are spoilers if you haven  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Life is comprised of different moments, and Hermione and Fred have experienced many of those moments.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This will be the first in a series of chapters chronicling Hermione and Fred's relationship throughout its many different stages, and it will be told in no particular order.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> The names of all characters contained herein are the property of JK Rowling. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.

xxx

You've destroyed horcruxes, and fought Death Eaters. You've broken into Gringotts, and impersonated Bellatrix Lestrange. You've been tortured using the Cruciatus curse, you've blackmailed a reporter at the Daily Prophet, you've gotten record scores on your NEWTs and OWLs. In fact, your score for the NEWTs is the second-highest in recorded history, and you were outsmarted only by Albus Dumbledore.

You've done all of these things, and more, and yet, you are still terribly nervous about telling your husband that you're pregnant.

What if he isn't pleased? you ask yourself. What if he doesn't want kids right now? What if he does want children, just not with _you, and he leaves you after you tell him the news? What if what if what if._

You wait anxiously in your house, pacing through for nearly two hours, until he comes home from the shop. Ordinarily you would have been helping him and his twin out, but today you felt ill… and now you know why. You've been with Fred for years; married for three and dating even longer than that. You know him better than anyone, except George. And he knows you, what's more, and even so you're still not sure how this will go over.

He sees your panicked face as soon as he walks in, and he tosses a box onto the nearest chair and walks to you, concerned. His hands rub your upper arms reassuringly. "Is everything alright, 'Mione? What's wrong — are you sick? Do we need to go to St. Mungo's?"

His voice is worried, and you look into his eyes and see the love there. The concern for your well-being.

"I'm fine, Fred," you say softly. "Better than fine, I think."

He smiles, relieved. "I just thought… you've been sick lately, and if it was serious, I don't know what I'd do, to be honest."

"I'm fine," you repeat. "But there is _something that I want to tell you, and I'm not quite sure how you'll take it. Please, sit." You gesture towards the chair he put the package on, and he puts it carefully on the ground before taking a seat. He rests his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him as he focuses on you._

"Alright then. What's going on, Hermione?"

You wring your hands, biting your lip. All of those worries from earlier come rushing back, and you almost cry. "I'm — well, the truth is, Fred… I'm pregnant." You watch his face carefully for any reaction, but his expression remains blank. You can see his thoughts racing, though; his eyes have always told you everything you need to know about him, once you cared to look.

"Are you putting me on, love?" he asks finally, puzzled.

"What? No! Fred, this is — it's real."

"So it's not payback for the purple hair, or the disappearing cloak, or the bon-bon that turned you into an otter for three hours?"

You want to frown at all those memories, but instead, you smile. "No, not for any of those," you reply. He looks thoughtful.

"For the hopping cauldron, then? Or the time when George pretended to be me all day because I was off buying you a surprise birthday present and you took off your robe in front of him? Or maybe the—"

"Fred! No," you say, exasperated. "No. It's not a joke. I promise you. Darling, I promise."

He stands, carding a hand through his hair. "So…you're really with child?" He looks at you, gaze keen.

You nod, biting your lip nervously. It's a habit you've never had the time or passion to break.

He looks you in the eyes for a moment, and then his gaze moves downward, to your belly. "You're to have a child," he says slowly. "My child."

You say nothing. He continues to look at your abdomen. "I…am going to be a father," he says. "Me a father, and you a mother."

He's silent for a moment, gaze still on your lower body. His eyes flick back up to meet yours. A bright grin spreads over his face, and it might as well ricochet off the walls for how genuine and large it is. He moves to you so quickly you hardly have time to gasp before he's lifting you up in his arms and spinning the two of you wildly around the sitting room.

"I'm going to be a father!" he says gleefully as you spin. He's almost shouting as he says it again, and again; you find that you don't mind. You laugh as he continues spinning, pressing your forehead against his, your arms twining around his neck.

"This is the best news," he adds.

He stops spinning and sets you back down, and the two of you hold onto each other fiercely, both to stop yourselves from falling over due to dizziness, and because there is nothing so important right now as holding the one you love.

"Merlin, but I've hoped for this," he murmurs to your ear. You sigh, contented, as he moves back just a little only to come closer, just to kiss you. You can taste his joy and his passion, and the Chocolate Frog he must've had just before coming home.

He loves you, and you've never been so sure of it as in this moment.


End file.
